Sacrifice
by XFilesFictionFan
Summary: Scully sacrifices herself, but not everything is as it seems. I know the title and summary stinks but I couldn't come up with anything else. This is my first X Files story even though I've loved reading fan fiction and of course the show since the beginning. So please, advice/tips/opinions would be incredibly appreciated. Thanks and enjoy.


**Sacrifice**

By: XFilesFictionFan

Summary: Scully sacrifices herself, but not everything is as it seems. I know the title and summary stinks but I couldn't come up with anything else. This is my first X Files story even though I've loved reading fan fiction and of course the show since the beginning. So please, advice/tips/opinions would be incredibly appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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It was dark outside, but he didn't know what time it was. He was too confused with his surroundings to be bothered with time. Wherever he was, it appeared to be night as the sky was colored a deep blue and the only source of light emanated from the bright, round moon above. A cool breeze blew across his brown hair and gently tugged at the collar of his jacket. He shivered involuntarily.

He couldn't see far in front of him; whatever lay in the distance was consumed by a thick fog. There were no sounds registering in his ears: not a cricket, not a car, not even the breeze made noise. It was eerie to say the least. He looked around, searching for any kind of clue that would enlighten him as to what was going on.

Turning around, he realized that he had been standing behind a large metal structure. He looked up at it, craning his neck to take in its entire appearance. His eyes danced from side to side in a zigzag pattern as he scanned its smooth surface. It appeared as some sort of futuristic bus stop shelter, as odd as it seemed. It was rectangular with one long side open to the outside atmosphere. A road paralleled the "bus stop" though there was not a single vehicle to be heard or seen driving by. It was like a strange dream, and he desperately wanted to wake up as an ominous feeling settled in his bones.

Not knowing what to do, he chose to do the only thing he logically could: to walk around and gain some information about his location. He chose to turn right instead of left out of the bus stop shelter and concluded that it wouldn't have mattered which way he went: nothing lay in either direction of the shelter but clouds of fog, disguising anything that was beyond the wall of mist. He guessed that the distance between himself and the fog was only about ten yards. He paused, taken over by bafflement, spinning around where he stood to find that other than the "bus stop", his surroundings appeared identical. Ten yards in any and every direction lead to a barrier of grey fog.

Suddenly there were voices hollering sternly, and he didn't have to strain his ears to listen because they sounded frighteningly close. "There he is! The target! Shoot to kill! Open fire!"

Triggers were being pulled all at once, bullets soared past him and pierced circles into the fog behind him. In an instant he dove behind the bus stop shelter and listened to the bullets ricochet off its exterior.

_Well this is great. First I have no idea where I am, and now I'm being shot at_, he thought.

He didn't know who was trying to kill him but the message was clear. He was wanted dead.

He reached behind him to retrieve his own gun, and sighed in relief when he found it there. It took him a minute to figure it out, but his gun wouldn't have done him much good anyway. Not only was it unloaded, but how could he see where to fire with all the fog impairing his vision?

The firing ceased abruptly.

He cautiously peeked around the side of the shelter, going no further than exposing his nose, and pulling away immediately once his opponents returned to firing their weapons. Then all seemed quiet again.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, he had to figure out how to get out of there without getting wounded. He didn't have very much time to think, for only a minute had gone by when he heard footsteps running towards him at a rapid speed. They sounded light, and this perturbed him. Surely whoever was out there was wearing boots, no? Mulder's curiosity got the best of him; he decided to steal another look at the fog from around the side of the shelter but saw nothing. Still the footsteps grew louder in volume. He faintly saw a figure coming through the shadows.

Whoever it was had been running at an alarming speed. He knew that he would have to defend himself, there was nowhere else to flee, so he prepared himself as much as he could: taking a deep breath and arching his body a bit to brace for the impact. He didn't expect this individual to stop in time before colliding with him, so to help keep him rooted to the spot, he put one foot behind himself for further support. They were headed straight for him. He formed his hands into fists, ready to swing at this sudden threat as soon as it was close enough.

Not before the silhouette was a few feet in front of him, that he realized he was in no danger at all. He recognized this person. It was Dana Scully. He was overtaken by the need to get her out of the line of fire, though the guns weren't blasting any bullets yet, there was no telling when they'd go off again.

"Scully, get down!" he called urgently, but she kept running, her legs pumping as fast as possible. When she finally reached him, she embraced him roughly, almost knocking him to the ground. She wrapped her arms around his body, tucking her head in his neck. Her breath was quick and warm against his flesh. She held him so tight; it became difficult for him to breathe. He was thoroughly surprised and so it took him a few seconds to return the gesture.

"What are you doing here?" Mulder questioned incredulously. He tried forcing her to move towards the shelter, as they were now standing slightly outside of it, but she wouldn't budge. She removed her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. That's when he noticed she'd been crying. Before he could ask her what was wrong, she took his face in the palms of her hands and pressed her lips fiercely to his own. His eyes widened, not expecting this from his partner, but not quite rejecting it either.

Almost too soon, she stopped kissing him and leaned towards his ear, her chin lightly brushing against the skin of his jaw. "Trust me", she whispered.

And then it happened. A single gunshot echoed and Scully's whole body tensed. Her nails dug into Mulder's clothes, her grasp on him tightening. She clung to him relentlessly. Scully struggled for breath as quietly as she could, focusing on holding onto Mulder, shielding him, until another bullet impailed the delicate flesh of her back, this injury causing a scream of pain to escape her throat. Still she didn't let go.

Mulder was petrified. He could feel the oddly convulsing movements of her lungs inside her chest, rising and falling awkwardly as she simply tried to breathe. "Scully?" his voice trembled.

It was after a few more unsteady breaths that her hold on him drastically relinquished, forcing Mulder to hold onto her instead of the other way around, keeping her from falling to the ground in a heap.

There was a sound in the distance of an engine starting. Headlights pierced the fog and a van sped by, no doubt with the perpetrators inside. Mulder and Scully were alone now, which didn't bring any comfort to Mulder. Scully needed help. He patted his jacket pockets with one hand, Scully in the other, in hopes of finding a cell phone there, and he did. He dialed the appropriate numbers but he had no service. He tossed his useless phone to the side and with both his hands and arms, he began lowering Scully to the floor. Her eyes were closed and the tears she had been crying were beginning to dry on her statue-still face.

Scully's lips were parted slightly, her head tilted backwards, exposing her neck skyward as he laid her on the ground as gently as possible. He stared in disbelief at the lifeless body before him, waiting for the rise and fall of her chest and filling with desperation when no such action came, but he wasn't prepared or willing to let his beloved friend die, not like this, not now… there was so much more they had to do together, so much time they had to spend. He refused to let it end this way.

Kneeling down beside her, he gingerly lifted her chin and lowered himself to her mouth. He breathed two full breaths of air into her lungs, using one hand to pinch her nose, and the other on her abdomen to feel it expand. He began the compressions, pushing down with just enough pressure. She jolted at every forceful movement, but she still wasn't breathing on her own. He kept at it, determined, even as the sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, he couldn't give up on her now, not after all she had done for him. "Come on Scully, breathe. You've got to breathe. Scully, breathe, damn it!" Out of breath, he sat back on his legs, shouting out for help, to anyone who could hear him. "Help me, please! We're FBI agents! She's hurt! Anybody, please help!" But he never received an answer. He was beyond frustrated now, and let out an agonizing howl towards the open sky. The ache that surrounded his heart was indescribable.

_This can't be happening right now_, he thought.

He gathered Scully's corpse in his arms, ignoring the red liquid staining his clothes. He buried his face in her neck and sobbed forlornly. He squeezed her with all his strength, as if his mighty grasp could bring her to life again. In his arms was all that was left of the woman he'd grown so fond of over the years, she was the only friend he ever really had and he was disturbed that this realization came at the cost of her life.

"Scully please, I can't lose you now." He held her face towards his own, his hand behind her head vanishing in the strands of her sleek hair.

Her returned her to the ground and watched her head as it lolled to the side. He simply watched her, numb from his loss. He couldn't make his eyes leave the site of her, even when his own life was yet again in danger...

A cold object pressed against the base of his neck and his eyes widened with intense fear but before he could be given the chance to react, the trigger was pulled and it was over, the image of Scully lying in a pool of her own blood fading until death consumed him.

He bolted upright in his bed, drenched in sweat. He slowed his breathing after a few moments and ran his quaking hand through his severely disheveled hair. Mulder reached for the phone once he felt like he'd composed enough of himself. He was not willing to let another second go by or let another moment slip through his fingers like sand. Nothing could stop him from expressing his feelings now. He was going to call the only person who mattered. He was going to call Scully.

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_Author's Note: Okay, glad that's done. How'd I do? It turned out to have more detail than I intended, I don't know if that made it better or worse, you'll have to tell me. I know it's a weird story, but it was meant to be Mulder's dream and dreams can be mysterious. But like I said, this is my first story ever, so any kind of feedback would be great. If I do ever write another story, I'd like it to be better than this one. So any help at all that you could give would make me happy. Thanks, and I hope you enjoyed reading. _


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